The high tide of the Equinox

The Sea covered most of the black rocks in front of the house by the Sea. Far, far away, the grey waves merged with the leaden sky. The Land was bracing, waiting for the final assault. The trees moaned in the howling Wind. The rocks shook under the crashing waves. The time had come. The…

An African* childhood, part 3

The magic house, Conakry, Guinea, West Africa, c.1962. I’m sitting on the table, pondering the day’s next play. Little Sis walks down the stairs with her cast on her arm. Keep a safe distance lest she clubs you. The house may be long gone, the African village at the back has been replaced by rows…

Pot-pourri 60 minus 1

“Show me the way to the next whisky bar”… Butte-aux-cailles, Paris, 2018. Scotty is still fishing in Elizabethan Scotland. He claims the trouts were bigger at that time. I told him not to mess with Elizabeth. The first. Spock and Uhura are on a date in Aldebaran. Spock? A date? That leaves Mr. Sulu and…

Master elephant, cont…d

I was lucky enough to “meet” elephants at a very young age. And see many through my childhood and teens. Above: elephant orphanage, Conakry, Guinea, West Africa, c.1960. R. to l. Three baby elephants, orphaned after their mother was killed by a poacher, yours truly (with white socks if you please), my mother, and little…

The Colonel’s gardens. Epilogue.

Joy and sorrow. Birth and death. “The common lot of mankind”. Old Will would have said. Only a few months ago I wrote the story of a ceremony I’d witnessed as a child in Africa: the presentation to Society of the Colonel’s son. In the immediate years after Independence, the Colonel (whom I named Boubakar) and…

The Colonel’s gardens. An African childhood.

The gardens sloped down the small hill to the grey waters of the West African sea. The Colonel’s house was perched on top of the hill, a white, ordinary two-storey affair overlooking the ocean. The house had no particular charm, but the gardens were another matter. Trees everywhere for shade from the African sun: palm…

Pot-pourri six-and-twenty

Somerset Maugham used to write his numbers “backwards”, German-style: six-and-twenty, sex und zwanzig. I don’t know if that was the rule in “oulde” english. Maugham had his heyday around the thirties. I’ve never read english numbers written so by anyone else. Regardless, here is Pot-pourri six-and-twenty. Fasten your seat belts. The above: “Global warNing”. Paris,…

Pot-pourri veinticuatro

San Francisco. July 2016. I would gladly buy the little blue house. But I understand real state prices in Frisco belong to another dimension. The Twilight Zone maybe? 🙂 Sophia Loren. A few years ago. (Gentlemen don’t tell). On the wall of a restaurant. Cuernavaca, Mexico. July 2016. The 7th (street) Art. London. 2015. Marcello…